Chapter 189: One Punch, Demolished
BOOM.
A deafening impact. A vast circular crater punched into an open lot, massive chunks of stone spraying in every direction. Nearby skeleton soldiers were either killed by the shockwave or pulverised by the debris. The force of the descent had generated wind like a category-fifteen hurricane, blasting the rising dust cloud outward and dispersing it before it could settle.
The crater was hundreds of metres across. Dozens of metres deep.
The shockwave had shattered every window in distant buildings. The residents inside lost their footing and grabbed for anything stable, convinced an earthquake had hit. The problem was that even if it had been an earthquake, going outside was more dangerous than staying in — the streets were packed with skeleton soldiers. Most people had sealed every door and window and were staying put. Only a handful risked cracking their phones open to film the street, then immediately uploaded the footage.
It spread across the internet within minutes. Within the hour, the entire world had seen it.
At the centre of the crater, a blood-red figure struggled upright. It stood five or six metres tall, its massive frame composed entirely of crimson bone. The soul-flame in its skull burned noticeably more densely than those of the standard undead — a more concentrated green, harder and more solid.
"I was just… punched down here? Three ribs broken — no. Not broken. Disintegrated. Like something decomposed them."
The hoarse voice came from a mouth with no flesh behind it, which somehow produced clear words regardless.
"There's more than two strong opponents in this world. One hit sent me flying — and not just me, another one too. One attack, two targets launched. So what is it that—"
The blood-red figure stopped mid-sentence.
One skeletal arm snapped outward and grabbed something from the air beside it.
Bone against bone. It looked at what it was holding.
Its composure cracked.
"This is — impossible. Wasn't this one hit alongside me? It was only marginally weaker than I am. How is it reduced to just a skull?"
It turned the object over. A massive skull — as tall as an adult human when stood upright — with rows of jagged protruding fangs.
Covered in hairline fractures.
Soul-flame extinguished.
Dead.
If it had been capable of sweating, it would have been drenched. If it had possessed a heart, it would have been racing. The tension spreading through its awareness was total.
The enemy is strong. Absurdly strong. Beyond any projection. This kind of power — it's the same as the Undead Sovereign.
The Undead Sovereign was the single most powerful being in the entire undead realm. And whatever was standing somewhere in this city right now felt equivalent.
"That human opponent is near. But I can't locate them at all. Is their concealment that refined, or is there something else?"
A disturbance behind it.
No hesitation. Its skeletal arm swung backward in a brutal arc, crimson magical force detonating outward — a massive blade of death-aspected energy capable of stripping the life from anything living.
The energy hit its target.
And began to dissolve.
It stared.
The energy it had put into that strike — energy powerful enough to kill anything alive — was being decomposed. Broken down into its component elements. Terrifying undead magical force, reduced into harmless ambient energy that anyone could absorb.
Then a voice.
"Comes apart that easily — you're not actually that strong, are you. At least compared to what the Arena generates, you're considerably weaker. Those opponents had genuinely ridiculous physical durability — difficult to decompose. But you…" A pause. "Pretty easy, honestly."
"Anyway — conclusion is: I thought you lot might give us some actual trouble. But looking at this, you're fairly weak. Probably about Katakuri-tier if he wasn't holding back."
The blood-red figure didn't know what "Katakuri" referred to.
But the part in the middle came through perfectly clearly.
This human had just called it weak.
It was the strongest of the twelve Crown Kings among the undead — slightly above the other crimson-fogged one, and below only the Undead Sovereign itself in the entire undead realm. Second in the world. Second in the entire world.
And this small, thin human just said it was weak.
Ryū looked up at the towering figure, expression carrying mild interest. "Your next line is — 'you insignificant wretch, who do you think you are, flaunting some strange ability like that?'"
"You insignificant wretch — who do you think you are, flaunting some strange ability like that?!"
The blood-red figure's expression shifted the instant it finished saying it.
The disbelief in those empty eye sockets landed directly on Ryū.
"Your next line is — 'how did you know what I was going to say?'"
"How did you know what I was going to say?!"
"Your next line is — 'silence, human bread, address this king properly.'"
"Silence, human bread — address this king—!!"
"Your next line is — 'are you actually thinking about running?'"
"…"
Every bone in its body wanted to say something. Nothing came out.
Ryū could feel the waves of incredulity radiating from it even without a heart or facial muscles to betray it.
Observation Haki. A few seconds of foresight. In combat, it was like running the game with a script open. And in situations like this, it doubled as an extremely effective way to make someone lose their mind entirely.
His constitution meant there was no physical cost to extended high-precision prediction. He could do this indefinitely.
The blood-red figure — completely unable to process being read like this — made a decision. It cut off its own hearing and attacked.
Its blood-crimson bones shifted. Dozens of massive bone spikes launched toward Ryū at speed only marginally below Kizaru's — tearing the air apart as they flew, the displaced pressure alone enough to kill an ordinary person.
Ryū flickered.
When he reappeared, every spike had passed through empty air.
"You fell for it, human! Did you think this king didn't know you'd dodge?!"
Dozens of blood-crimson bone spikes erupted from the ground directly beneath Ryū's feet.
They hit him.
The blood-red figure's voice died.
"That wasn't a body. That was — an afterimage? I couldn't even detect it was an afterimage? How fast does someone have to move—"
"Your next line is — 'was this within your calculations as well, human.'"
"Was this within your calculations as well, human—!!"
CRACK.
The sentence ended.
Ryū's fist connected with the skull. Bone fragments exploded outward. The force discharged at the point of impact and the shockwave radiated in every direction.
The five-to-six-metre frame crashed into the ground like a felled tree.
The earth split — hundreds of fissures, wide and deep, radiating outward to several hundred metres, then further, to over a kilometre. Half the city trembled. At the epicentre it felt like a meteorite strike.
Ryū watched the soul-flame gutter and go out. He gave the motionless skeleton a light kick.
"Kid. Don't go around invading other worlds until you've actually finished your training. You're not ready for that level of chuunibyou." He looked up. "Sounds like a few more have been taken care of up there too."
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